


The House on Whiskey Way

by himitsutsubasa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2020, M/M, Pandemic - Freeform, Quarantine, chaotic bi for a chaotic year, lock-down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28045728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himitsutsubasa/pseuds/himitsutsubasa
Summary: Dean loses his job as a bartender so he packs up and drives from Kansas to California to live with his little brother and the mysterious Professor Novak.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 7
Kudos: 32





	1. Two Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> Please ignore the complete disregard for how the states shut down and how the US handled the pandemic. I don't want to think about it so we live in a fantasy world where COVID ends with a Christmas Miracle.
> 
> I’m an essential worker and spent a lot of time driving around while I was stuck for the lack of better things to do. In those long rides, I made it out to Palo Alto a few times and wondered what Dean and Sam would think of all the very flammable hills.
> 
> Also, surprise! I'm back. ¡Viva Memo Rojas!

The first thing he did was call Sam. Actually, that’s not quite right. 

The first thing he did was collect his last check from his manager. The second thing was he went out to the parking lot. The third thing, and he’s very proud of this because it was very mature, was he didn’t smash a window because the bastard fucking stole the money the community raised to keep restaurants and bars open and ran and this last check was Dean’s cut of what his boss didn’t steal. The fourth thing he did was get into the impala. The fifth thing was he drove home before he changed his mind about smashing the windows. 

Then he called Sammy.

“Dean, I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the bed. His little studio apartment was nice, but he couldn’t imagine staying here for months. God, the people in China were stuck in their homes for two months now. He would have to spend two months stuck in these tiny walls. He’d go insane. Never mind finding a way to pay rent, he would actually go insane.

“It’s alright; I’ll figure it out. I’m more worried about the next few months. This place is puny.”

There was a pause then a clatter. Maybe Sam dropped something.

“Hold on a minute.”

There was a murmur from the other end and Dean remembered that Sam rented a guest house or something from a rich guy. It was probably that guy. They talked for a bit while Dean made himself a sandwich. He had headed out thinking that he’d be prepping for the lunch orders, that he would get a chance to make his pre-shift breakfast burrito.

“What about moving in with me?”

Dean choked on his bite.

“No. I can’t afford that. In case you forgot, I just lost my job.”

“Dean, you’re month-to-month, right? Castiel agrees. You should come here. We can figure out rent once you get a job.”

Castiel. That was the name of the guy Sam was renting from. Dean regretted not asking more because what kind of situation had Sam gotten himself into that this Castiel guy was willing to let Sam’s brother live there rent free for who knows how long?

That wasn’t even the biggest problem. Dean tried to remember what he saw on the news they would play in the diner and he was pretty sure, yeah pretty sure, that California locked down completely two weeks ago.

Dean chuckled. This was crazy talk. “Sammy, you live in California. Isn’t there a rule about people not moving around in California?”

“A lot of your paperwork is with me. We’ll get you tested and then you can quarantine for two weeks.” Well, Dean was pretty sure that wasn’t the spirit of the law, but his brother knew the letter a lot better than he did.

“Where am I going to quarantine? All the hotels are for essential workers only.”

Sam shrugged. Dean heard the shuffle as his brother’s shoulder raised and the phone knocked against his head. The phone was probably sandwiched between the big lug’s shoulder and ear. “I’ll figure it out, Dean. Just keep your chin up.” A pause. “Castiel insists you come.”

Dean gave a labored inhale at the name. Castiel. What kind of weird bastard was Castiel? Maybe it would be worth driving to California to know what kind of weirdo his brother would be locked up with. Protect Sammy’s virtue and all that.

“Alright. I’m going to pack. Let me know what you figure out.”

It didn’t take Dean long to pack. He handed off the stuff he couldn’t take to one of his coworkers and put the rest in the impala. It was evening when he was done and checked his phone. Sam had texted him an address and Dean checked his atlas. Palo Alto, California. That was far. Probably twenty-four hours.

He chuckled as he started the car. He could make it in less than that.

* * *

Dean checked the address again to make sure it was right. He had stopped to sleep, parking the impala in a Walmart parking lot and sleeping in the backseat. Now, it was evening and the golden hour light lit up the hills until they looked like mountains of gold covered with a smattering of green foliage. He was driving into what looked like wilderness, which he didn’t think was possible with all those big fancy company signs he just passed.

He should be there by now. He’d already passed the normal neighborhoods with normal sized homes and the nicer neighborhoods with nicer homes. He had expected google to tell him to stop in one of those nice streets and he would get out and walk up to a perfectly normal house. Now, he was in the middle of nowhere. One bar. It would be hard to get a hold of Sammy.

Small houses - probably large ones, but at this distance they looked small - dotted the hillsides. He kept going down the road for another five minutes before he finally came across 1444 Whiskey Hill. 

He saw the little mailbox first. It wasn’t a small one, moderately sized, probably for packages and painted baby blue with bees on it. Dean turned off the road and was surprised to find a nicely paved path heading up the hill. It was a slow drive into the forest, but a minute later, he found the trees parting to reveal a home. There was plenty of room to park. He turned his attention back to the house. The house looked… smaller than its neighbors. Those were clearly mansions in full decadence in size and material and design. This was a one story situation, but the front was all beautiful glass and wood work. Expensive stuff, really expensive stuff. 

Dean cursed as he checked his phone again. This had to be the wrong place. He checked the address on the door and shit, how was he going to pay for this? 

He put on his mask and stepped outside. The air was warm. That was March in California for you. The sky was startlingly blue. He hadn’t assumed the sky was different in California. It was the same sky as the one over Kansas, but he hadn’t expected it to be cloudless. Out here, he felt like he was still in the middle of nowhere even though he knew there was a Starbucks near all those big companies.

He didn’t even make it to the front door when he saw the shadow of Sam’s lumbering figure through the frosted glass.

His brother was a sight for sore eyes. His hair was longer than Dean had ever seen it on him, but it wasn’t a bad look. He didn’t need his brother to take off the mask to know that Sam was smiling. His brother put a bag on the ground and Dean picked it up. Instructions were simple. Take the little swab, swish it around in his nose, then drop the swap, fluffy side down, into the tube. There was even a wet wipe to ensure his hands were clean. Dean knelt and followed the instructions then put everything back into the bag. Sam sprayed it town with the spray bottle by the door and wiped it before putting it on a table inside.

“Let me help you get your stuff. You’re going to stay in the guest room temporarily.” Sam picked up two boxes while Dean grabbed his duffel bag. “It’s the only one with a private bathroom. Then you’re going to move to the room next to mine. We’re going to be taking the path down this way.”

They stepped down the wood path and any thoughts Dean had about this house being on the smaller side faded away instantly. The house was built into the hillside. The one story home was actually two stories and mostly glass. This property probably covered the entire half of the hill. “Holy crap...How are we gonna afford this?” 

Sam shrugged and said, a little muffled from his mask. “Castiel said he’s suspending rent for the next few months. Unprecedented times and all that.”

“He can afford to do that?” Dean gaped at as they rounded the bend. There was a pool! A pool! That was a marble pillar! “Jesus, Sam, what did you get mixed up in? Is he your sugar daddy?”

“Nothing! NO!!” Sam tripped walking up a little path that took them past the pool and patio. “He was looking for tenants and I applied. I didn’t know until after that he was a professor.”

Dean whistled. “He’s a professor at Stanford? What are they paying professors these days?”

“I think he only pays the property taxes. He said he inherited the house when I first moved in. Shoes off.” Sam shifted the boxes as they went up the steps, pulling out a keyring from his pocket. He deftly unlocked the glass sliding door and stepped aside to Dean in. “He also said that a few months rent was something he could afford. He was more interested in having people around for the long haul.”

Dean took off his shoes and stepped inside. “What does he mean by that?”

“He’s friends with someone in the epidemiology department.” Sam faltered at the ‘speak in English, not nerd’ face Dean threw at him. “Uh, it’s like the study of how diseases transfer in a population or something. Anyway, he said that this pandemic is for the long haul and the others moved home when Stanford went online. I thought about it too because I wanted to be near you, but he insisted you come stay with us.”

“He’s kosher right? Not like… some sort of weirdo?” Dean tossed his bag on the bed then peered out the window. “Are those beehives?”

“Yes. Castiel keeps bees.” 

Dean raised his eyebrows. “See? That? That’s weird.”

Sam set his boxes down in the room. “He’s entitled to a little eccentricity, Dean. Don’t worry about it.”

Dean surveyed the room. Shit, this was a nice place. The bed was a nice queen sized mattress and the room was huge. Was that.. Dean peered into the bathroom. The shower glass had a swooping beveled pattern at the top. That was so excessive. “Where is he anyway?”

Sam stepped back outside and Dean followed. He only had a suitcase and one box left. He was pretty sure the box was full of books, which would come in handy over the next two weeks. “He’s teaching right now. He said he would swing by your room and say hello later.” 

“Alright then.” Dean looked over his shoulder and admired the view from midway up the path. It was gorgeous in the evening light. “How far are we from Stanford?”

“About twenty minutes.”

Dean whistled. This was a pretty sweet location then. “That’s a short commute.”

“It was great when we still went to campus.”

“That silver Prius is his then?” Dean glanced over at the prius parked next to the banged up corolla that he knew was Sam’s. The corolla was third-hand if the guy who sold it to Sam was to be believed and it sure looked like it. Dean had no idea where to start making that car look good again. Probably wouldn’t even be worth it.

Suitcase and box in hand, they headed back down the hill again. This time, Dean walked first and he marvelled at how beautiful the house was. The craftsmanship really was something. 

“You’re sure he said free?” Dean asked as he put his stuff down. Goddamn this place was something else.

“Yes, Dean.”

Dean watched Sam’s retreating figure and called out, “You realize this kind of stuff doesn’t happen to kids like us. There’s always some catch.”

Sam turned around and called back, “Miracles happen.”

“Yeah, right. Miracles.”

* * *

A soft knock on the door woke Dean from his nap. He startled before he remembered where he was. He wasn’t in Kansas anymore that was for sure.

“Dean?” A gravelly voice came through the door a little muffled. That must be Castiel.

Dean got off the bed, putting the Carver Edlund novel on the bedside table, and walked over to the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yeah?”

“I’m Castiel.” No shit, Sherlock. 

“Nice to meet you, Castiel.”

“Nice to meet you too, Dean.” Dean startled at the sound of Castiel’s voice forming his name. Oh, yeah, that was… that was nice.

“Do you come here often?”

There was a long pause and Dean shuffled. Shit. That was too far. He shouldn’t have cracked the joke. Then he heard a soft sound and huh, what was that?

“Not when Ruby was renting this room, but I will likely be by more often in the future. If you’d like that.” He could hear the grin in Castiel’s voice.

“I’d like that… so, what are you wearing?” 

Dean inhaled sharply. The soft sound was louder this time and oh, yeah, Castiel was definitely laughing now.

He wondered what Castiel looked like, what face would match the deep gravelly voice and soft laughter. Dean refrained from slapping himself. Oh, man, this was going to be a long two weeks.

* * *

Cas would stop once or twice a day to check on him, usually when Sam was busy. Sometimes, if Sam wasn’t able to bring Dean lunch, Cas would bring lunch. Dean didn’t want to admit it, but the lunches Cas made were so much better than the rabbit food Sam brought him.

Dean never saw the man, but he recognized the soft knock and the deep voice. They would talk about whatever for thirty minutes, maybe an hour, before Cas would head back upstairs to teach or do whatever it was he did in his office. Dean wasn’t really sure what sociology professors did, but he figured it was important. He could occasionally hear Castiel pacing.

Dean opened the door a crack and pulled the tray into his room. Tacos. Dean lost track of the days, but he remembered that Sam once mentioned they did taco Tuesday as a house bonding activity. 

“Thanks, Cas.”

Shit. He had just said Cas instead of Castiel.

“You’re welcome, Dean. What are you reading?”

Dean let go of the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Cas didn’t mind the nickname then.

“I’m reading Dune again.”

“I haven’t read that one.”

“You haven’t read Dune?! That’s insane.”

“Is it very good?”

“It founded the space opera genre. You know, Star Wars?”

Castiel did not know Star Wars, but he did sit down in front of Dean’s room and watch it at full volume while Dean commented through the door. It wasn’t a perfect experience, but it kept him from being bored. 

* * *

Sam put on a little party hat and pulled out a confetti popper.

Pop!

Little bits of plastic glitter rained on his head.

“Finally letting me go, warden?”

Sam nodded solemnly and Dean was reminded of eight year old Sam pretending to be a judge sentencing Dean to ten years hard labor for eating his cookies. Fond memories. “You’re free to go. Clean bill of health.”

Dean wrapped his brother in a hug. Damn. It felt good to hug the big lug.

When he finally let go, he turned to the other person in the room. Castiel’s face did not disappoint. He had high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. Dean had to admire the jawline. That was beautiful and thrown into sharp relief by the permanent five o’clock stubble that dusted Castiel’s cheeks. The man was gorgeous. 

“Nice to meet you, Dean.” Not to sound like a shitty romcom, but he could listen to that voice say his name for the rest of his life.

“Nice to meet you Cas.”

Cas smiled at him and oh yeah, he was a goner.

* * *

The house was more complicated than Dean liked.

After his short time in the guest room downstairs, Dean was upgraded to a more permanent room next to Sam’s. They shared a balcony, a wall, and a hallway bathroom. On their floor, they had a large entertainment room, bar (awesome), library (also, awesome), exercise room (complete with a wall of mirrors, Dean noted), and the wine cellar (holy crap). He’d boggled at the wine cellar when Cas gave him the tour.

“I’m not sure what’s in it.” 

Dean gingerly picked up a Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru… Jesus, that was a mouthful. Then, he set it back down. God knows how much that cost.

“You’re not sure.”

“They were my father’s. Help yourself. It’s not like I’ll drink it.”

He followed Cas up the winding stair case. 

The first thing Dean saw was a marble pillar. There were a few of those downstairs as well. Dean had chalked it up to some weird design thing to match the sort of faux exotic thing the house had going on, but seeing it here, in the living room, Dean was one hundred percent sure it was because the guy who designed it was weird as all shit. The house was some strange mix of styles that made no sense. 

Cas brought him to the kitchen first. The stove was a nice gas range with overhead ventilation. There was more than enough pantry space and Dean figured that if push came to shove, Cas could feed a garrison with all the non-perishable goods he had stocked up on. He was surprised when Cas pointed out a section of cabinet that was going to be his. he had figured he would be sharing space with Sam for the time being, but Cas insisted that Dean have his own cabinet. They passed the two dining rooms (excessive) and they were back where they started. Cas led Dean over to the living room, the proper living room, while pointing out the doors that lead to his room and his home office. 

They stopped in front of the floor to ceiling windows and Dean soaked in the view. He could see the entire valley here. 

Cas pointed out few locations along the hills, homes of founders of companies Dean had taken for granted as always being there.

“You’re telling me that the Hewlett guy in Hewlett-Packard lived over there?”

“My brothers said that he used to throw the best Christmas parties.”

Dean turned to Cas with a questioning expression on his face. Cas turned away from the window and met Dean’s stare.

“What?”

“No offense, but how do you afford all of this?” Dean gestured out the window.

Cas faltered, blinking rapidly and the flutter of his eyelashes drew Dean in. Damn those big blue eyes. They were fucking gorgeous.

“I suppose it must appear… strange. I inherited the house from my father.”

Dean processed the last bit before he processed the first part. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Cas leaned against the glass and Dean decidedly did not think about shoving Cas up against the glass, absolutely not. “The rent and my salary cover everything else.” 

“You don’t seem very attached to the house.” Dean did not mean to say that and it appeared to startle Cas as well. 

Cas stopped leaning on the glass and crossed his arms. Not a bad kind of cross, a hug kind of cross, Dean thought. Cas looked like he needed a hug.

“I’ve considered selling it,” Cas admitted. “A house is not a home, Dean. Without the students here, there isn’t much reason for me to keep it.”

The conversation lulled after that and Dean didn’t remember what he said or did, but he got Cas in good spirits again and they ended up chatting about inane little things until Cas had to go teach his class.

Their interactions were like that. Small bits and pieces here and there. Dean would learn things like how Cas was always sleep-soft in the morning and needed a proper breakfast to wake up. Cas was also terrible at making breakfast. Liable to burn the place down. He learned that Cas thought he was a big grumpy bear in the mornings, which he was. He hated being woken up. He learned things like how Cas had a strong affection for cheeseburgers even if he’d never made a homemade burger before and that the fella was a baker, especially good at making pies. God, the pies.

Dean also learned fairly quickly that aside from talking about his brothers, Gabe, Luc, and Mike, Cas did not like talking about his family. He especially avoided the topic of his father.

Dean also also learned that the wines down there were extremely pricey. Cas had said to help himself to anything he wanted, so he grabbed a bottle of whiskey, but the wines would stay where they were. 5,000 USD a bottle. It was ridiculous.

* * *

“What are you doing?”

Dean straightened up and turned. Cas was standing at the edge of the kitchen. He looked soft and sleep rumpled in the beige sweater he always seemed to have on over his dark blue henley and black sweats. Dean paused to admire those sweats. They fit very nicely over shapely thighs and calves.

“Looking for jobs.”

Cas furrowed his brows and Dean wanted to press his finger to that little spot between Cas’ eyes just to see what the man would do. “Why are you looking for jobs?”

“Well, I gotta start paying rent at some point.” Dean chuckled, getting off the bar stool and standing to stretch. “You don’t expect me to believe that you’re just going to let us live here for free while the apocalypse is happening.”

“Well, yes.” Cas padded over, his sleepy eyes following Dean’s every move, lingering, appreciative. “It would be unfair to ask you to leave this house while there’s a pandemic going on.”

“Forgive me for not being a believer, but good things like that don’t just happen.”

Castiel peered into his eyes and Dean repressed a shudder. This was a weakened version, Dean knew, because Cas looked like a rumpled kitten, but the gaze was still incredibly strong. It was like the man was looking right through him, past his skin and his bones and into his very soul. 

“You don’t believe that good things can happen to you.” It wasn’t a question, more of a statement.

Dean sighed. “I’m not going to get into this with you. Look, Cas. It doesn’t feel right to just accept this.”

Cas inhaled deeply like the inhalation would stop him from getting frustrated with Dean. He then exhaled slowly and wow, he was really doing breathing exercises to restrain himself, what a guy. 

“You can help around the house. I'll add you to Sam's rental agreement and you two can sign later.”

Dean ignored the last part. Sam would figure that out. “Like… Gardening?”

Cas shrugged one shoulder. “Sure, if that’s what you want to do. Sam mentioned you worked at a restaurant.” The ‘before all this’ went unspoken. “You can be in charge of meals, some light gardening, and light housekeeping. We can split groceries three ways. Does that seem fair?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Delightful.” Cas paused then tilted his head. Dean could see the gears turning in his head. 

“Do you know how to use those fancy coffee machines?”

Dean’s brows drew together. Coffee machine? “Probably. I worked in a coffee shop for a bit. Why?”

It took them an hour to unbox and set up the coffee machine, which was possibly the most insane home coffee machine Dean had ever seen. It was a fucking Breville with all the bells and whistles. Apparently, Cas had gotten it from his brother at Christmas and not opened it, which was a damn shame. He liked his coffee black, but he could appreciate a beautiful piece of machinery.

Cas handed him a bag of unground beans and Dean sniffed it. The warm, heady aroma filled his nose. Some subtle fruity notes too. This was that fancy single origin stuff. Looking at the fancy packaging, Cas had probably gotten this along with the coffee maker.

“Seeing as I can’t go to Starbucks anymore, can I count on you?”

Dean put on his best barista face and flashed Cas a winning customer-service grin. All he needed was the green apron and he would be back at that Starbucks he worked at a few years ago. “What can I get for you? Macchiato? Flat white?”

Cas gave him a small, indulgent smile in return and leaned against the counter. “Just a latte. Nothing special.”

Dean fiddled with the knobs before figuring out the settings. He’d glanced over the manual before and remembered what it said. “Can you show me where the milk is?” 

Castiel padded over to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of oatmilk. Huh. Dean wasn’t all that surprised. Californians and their weird non-animal milks.

He made the latte quickly, pouring it into one of the mugs he found in the cabinet. This one proudly had the Harvard logo on it.

“Michael, my brother, went to Harvard.”

“Same one who got you the coffee machine?”

“Yep.” Cas popped the P and Dean tried really hard not to stare at those plush lips.

Then Cas moaned. Straight up moaned. Dean was sure his lattes were not that good.

“When was the last time you had a latte?”

Cas squinted at him.

“Dean?”

“Yes?”

“Can you make breakfast?”

Dean chuckled and started grinding more beans. “Putting me to work already. Alright, make a list of what you like to eat. I’ll go shopping later.”


	2. Smoke Signal

The sky was orange and Dean thought that the end was here. If this was the end, it was a boring end.

Cas thought the sky was a lovely color and it was a shame that it was that color because of the fires and Dean told him that he has no taste. 

* * *

It was a Saturday morning when Sam stumbled up the stairs to the kitchen, raising such a ruckus that Dean almost dropped his cup of coffee. “What is it, Sam?”

Sam’s hair was in disarray and he looked like he just grabbed whatever shirt was nearest, which was the anime one that Dean got him as a joke last Christmas, and hadn’t stopped to breathe.

“Evacuation warning. It looks like we are going to...”

There’s a flurry of activity then. Cas, who was in his office reading papers, got hauled out to the second living room where Dean and Sam set up a makeshift camp to figure out what the hell was happening and what they could do to keep the house safe in the meantime. They settled on packing whatever was important and following the agreed directions to the evacuation site as soon as possible.

The smoke on the horizon made the air above the trees a dark, burnt orange and Dean couldn’t help but wonder exactly how far away.

Ten miles, Sam told him an hour later when Dean was packing and wondering if he could manage to fit all his vinyls into his bag.

He dropped his duffel into his trunk when he spotted Cas hovering at the side of the house, looking down the hill. 

“You doing alright there, bud?”

Cas looked more worried than Dean had ever seen him, that included when the school rushed the turnaround time for finals grading and Cas had 100 papers to grade in two days and recruited Dean and Sam to mark the short answer sections in addition to having the grad students pull an “all hands on deck” to finish the essay portions. “The yard meets defensible space requirements. The house will be fine. I’m just…”

Dean followed Cas’ eyes to the little apiaries. They looked so small sitting on the hillside like that. “Your bees?”

Cas slumped a little and Dean wanted to put an arm around his waist, to get him to straighten up. “Yeah… It took so long to stabilize the colony. I don’t want to lose them.”

Dean inhaled deeply and it tasted like ash. 

“You won’t.”

Cas turned to him with a weak smile on his face. His eyes glistened a little. “You can’t promise that.”

“Yes, I can,” Dean said, already counting how many sprinklers Cas owned. 

They went to their separate rooms to pack. Cas stuffed his laptop and his clothes into a small carry-on suitcase that he’s pretty sure Gabriel gave him because it was a shade of teal Cas would have never picked for himself.

“The fire is on the other side of the ridge,” Sam came bursting into his room. Dean followed closely behind with a box in his hands. “We have to evacuate.”

Cas looked at him then back to the beehives through the window. The trees at the treeline didn’t even look green anymore, their bright foliage washed out by the darkening sky.

“Come on. Grab your stuff.” Dean grabbed his suitcase and tucked it under one arm. “They’re going to be okay. I promise.”

They shuffled out to their cars quickly. Sam headed out first, promising to call them if anything happened on the road. Cas made sure his things were stowed before turning back to the house. He didn’t love the house. It was… a cage more than a home for a long time, but seeing it cast in orange light as the world ended around him… well, he had to admit that there were parts he loved. 

Then he saw Dean Winchester digging in his garden.

“What are you doing?”

Dean smiled at him, jogging back to where they had parked their cars. 

“Turning on the sprinklers. I put some on the roof and by the apiaries. It should keep the yard and house wet while we’re gone.”

Dean’s eyes sparkled a brilliant green.

* * *

“Castiel, do you know what’s happening?”

Cas turned to the voice and a woman stood six feet away. Tears streamed down her cheeks and Cas remembered. He remembered when he first arrived and he hadn’t known anyone and Mrs. Tran from down the road had brought him cookies to welcome him to the neighborhood.

“Shhh. It’s going to be alright, Mrs. Tran.” He restrained his desitre to wrap his arms around her in a tight hug. “Where’s Kevin?”

“He’s here.”

Cas looked down and saw Kevin staring up at him. His face was tear streaked and the small hand that tugged on Cas’ overcoat was dirty. His mask was slightly askew.

Dean knelt down at his eye level. “Hey, Kevin. You doing alright?”

“Yeah,” Kevin whispered. He didn’t match Dean’s look.

Dean picked him up and brought him back to his mother. “I’m proud of you, Kevin. You’re very brave.”

Sam nodded and looked up from where he was checking his phone. “It’s going to be alright, Mrs. Tran. The fire isn’t over the ridge yet.”

It took some time to get the mother and son calmed down before a volunteer arrived to get them situated. Cas wondered if they were going to spend the night in the parking lot while the city figured out if they needed to evacuate even further or if there would be hotel rooms. People from the neighborhood walked over and would ask questions. Some were old, some were young, some had lived in the neighborhood longer than Cas had, some had just recently moved in. Cas found a bit of solace in seeing them for the first time in six months, though he wished that it was under better circumstances.

Dean, who had been alternatingly leaning against the impala with a stormy look on his face and pacing around their cars, brushed past Cas, heading towards the volunteer tent.

Cas caught his sleeve. 

“Where are you going?”

Dean gave him a wink since smiles didn’t seem to work with the bright red bandana tied around his face. 

“To help. You keep these folks calm. They know you. Sammy, you’re with me. Put that height of yours to good use and . I’m going to help distribute food and blankets. We’re all going to be fine.”

* * *

Two days and one night in a crappy hotel room later, Cas dropped his bags in the doorway to his untouched house. The firefighters had done an amazing job beating the fire back from their neighborhood.

“It’s good to be home,” Sam said as he made a bee-line for his room.

Dean tugged off his mask and grinned at Cas. “What did I tell ya?”

Cas let out the sigh he didn’t know he had been holding. “Thank you.”

Dean bumped his shoulder on his way past and Cas felt the corners of his mouth pull upwards.

Dean. Dean Winchester. 

* * *

“What are you thinking about?” Dean bumped his shoulder. 

Cas looked down. He had finished his two fingers of whiskey sometime earlier, but hadn’t bothered to put the glass down or go back inside. He was thankful now that he hadn’t had more.

“I’m deciding if I want to tell you something.”

Dean faltered then gave him an easy grin. It was his ‘try me’ grin that Cas had learned was shorthand for ‘I don’t do well in emotional conversations so I will put up this barrier between us because I’m afraid to feel’. 

“Well, shoot.”

“I…” Cas paused, trying to find a tasteful way to phrase this information. “I was not my biological father’s legitimate son. He found me when I was in middle school. I always knew. My mother married my father, the man who raised me, when I was one or two, too young to remember. They were nice people, but we were never close.”

Dean took a swig of his beer when Cas fell silent. 

“That’s heavy.”

Cas huffed and accepted the beer bottle pressed into his hand. It was a Modelo Black. One of Dean’s then. Cas never drank anything but whiskey and wine. His whiskey glass found a place on the table nearby.

“It was strange. I went from not knowing who my father was to all of this.” Cas gestured at the house. “I was so lonely and I desperately wanted to find where I belonged and I thought it was here.” 

Cas choked back a bitter laugh.

“The worst part was, he only brought me here to spite my brothers. They were all adults then so I wasn’t exactly on their radar, but he made me his heir to piss them off.”

Dean hummed, “It looks like it didn’t work.”

“It absolutely didn’t. If anything, they took me under their wings.” And wasn’t that something? Three older brothers who probably wanted nothing to do with the boy their father had out of wedlock and they had chosen to love him, to be there for him, to hold him close. “They didn’t want anything to do with their father, but when they saw him leave me here alone, they would always check up on me. They were more like parents to me than my parents ever were.”

Cas seemed lonely. He was lonely the way Dean was. Surrounded by people who loved him, but still alone.

Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

“Our mother died when Sam was a baby. House fire. Our father died when we were in middle school. Car accident.”

Cas’s eyes met his. “I’m sorry.”

If it had been anyone else, Dean thought, he would have considered a barbed word, a punch, maybe a bitter chuckle. But this was Cas, Cas who was too good and too kind and meant it. Meant every last bit of it.

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago. His old army buddy, we call him Uncle Bobby, raised us.” Dean paused. This was harder than he thought it would be. The emotions were like rolling waves as he looked at Cas and saw nothing but warmth. 

“Cas, family is the people who care about you.”

Cas looked away then, out to the starless sky and the valley covered in smokey haze. 

“I know. That’s why I’m not sure I want to tell you.”

Dean bumped his shoulder. “Tell me what?”

“I care about you, about Sam. More than I thought I would. Having you two here has made this house a home.”

Cas shrugged. He had said it so nonchalantly that Dean had to replay it in his head to make sure he heard it right. 

“You’re telling me you think of us as family?”

Cas smirked at him before bringing the bottle to his lips. “I’m not telling you I don’t think of you as family.”

Dean sighed deeply, leaning against the balcony railing. 

“You should have talked to Sam. He’s way better at chick-flick moments than I am.”

Cas gave him an easy grin, slick and smooth. “You’re doing perfectly well, Dean.”

“I can’t tell if you’re mocking me.”

“I can assure you, I am not mocking you.”

Dean bumped his shoulder again and this time Cas gently bumped him back.

“That’s what you wanted to tell me?”

There was a soft rustle and Dean could feel Cas’ eyes on him again, stripping him bare and reading the words he had hidden in his bones. 

“Yes.”

Dean exhaled sharply and turned to meet Cas’ gaze. “Well, if there’s more, don’t keep it all to yourself.”

Cas’ eyes shone, reflecting the pinpoints of light scattered in the valley. The stars obscured by smoke had found their home in his eyes. 

“I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlucky for me, I lived on the edge of the evacuation zone for one of the fires. I slept on the floor by the door because we were told we might have leave. Sucks to suck in California.


	3. Sound Track to the Apocalypse

“I’m just saying.”

Dean chuckled then took a swig of his beer. Cas was still squinting at the screen even though the screen was 92-inches across and Dean had long figured out that this was Cas’ thinking face. He was thinking real hard.

“You think I look like Constantine?”

His voice was a little gravely, probably the burn of whatever whiskey and coke situation he had going on in his mug. Dean hadn’t pegged Cas to be a heavy drinker, heavier than Dean at least, but the man had just muttered something about his dissertation and kept pouring. Dean was pretty sure the cup was more whiskey than coke at this point.

“A little. You’ve got that cool stubbly thing going on.”

Cas huffed and sipped from his mug and wasn’t that the cutest thing? Cas sipping barely diluted alcohol from his little “Devil + Coffee = Angel” mug that was probably a joke from Gabriel. Dean was starting to understand Cas’ brothers’ humor… a little.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It’s meant as one,” Dean said as he finished off his beer. Damn, this microbrew stuff Cas insisted on getting was good. If you couldn’t get drunk off it, you had to be drinking it for the taste, he figured.

Cas smiled warmly at him as he got up to refill the popcorn. “Another beer?”

“Sure.”

Damn, life was good.

* * *

They settled into a comfortable rhythm then. Cas was an early riser. He would meet Sam on the deck for some morning yoga after setting up Dean’s pour over to percolate. Dean would get up somewhere around seven and drink his coffee. Breakfast would be on the table by eight-thirty and once the two brainiacs were fed, they would start their days and Dean would start working on the house. There had been a surprising amount of work. Cas admitted that his usual landscaping people hadn’t been by in over a month and Dean had waved him off thinking it couldn’t be that bad. It was definitely that bad. Now, on Monday’s he would meet with the grounds crew before they started their work. Then, Monday and every other day, he’d spend some time gardening and tending to their vegetable plot, something Sam had suggested. Around eleven, he’d make lunch, usually something protein and veggie heavy. Cas and Sam would usually join him.

In the afternoon, when the sun would finally warm the air enough to call it hot, he would tidy around the house, vacuum, sweep, dust, whatever. It wasn’t much work, especially since a number of the rooms weren’t in use and Cas and Sam were habitually tidy people. Also, Cas had a roomba. 

He usually ended up working out in the home gym or reading until five. Depending on the status of the breadbox, he’d prepare a loaf for baking the next morning. Then he’d start cracking on dinner and round up the wayward nerds for food.

It was boring. Immensely boring. Dean was ready to crawl up the damn walls. He couldn’t even burn the stack of firewood he made. When Cas had snapped at him for wearing a trench in the floor outside Cas’ office with his pacing, Dean had retorted that there wasn’t much to do and Cas had shoved a key to a storage room in his hand and asked him to catalog everything in it. The sentimental stuff was sorted, Cas had said. It was just stuff his brothers had left behind and stuff they didn’t know what to do with and weren’t willing to claim. Cas was ready to box it up and ship it to them, but seeing as none of them seemed to remember leaving anything at home, the finder-keeper’s rule applied.

And that is where Dean found the tape deck, the vinyl's. Oh, sweet Jesus, it was the jackpot.

He turned the records over in his hands and wondered which brother this belonged to. Probably Luc. Luc was the music producer, Cas said. 

There was also a box of first edition Carver Edlund novels, all signed and dated with a stamp that said “Chuck Shurley’s Personal Library” and wasn’t that pretentious as fuck? They would probably bring home a pretty penny on Ebay. Sam would love to see them first though. He was a sucker for a murder novel and an even bigger sucker for a first edition. Cas already had a set of these Dean knew. He had THE originals, the ones his father had kept in his office, the one that was now Cas’.

There were some creepy angel dolls (nope), a box of M&M paraphernalia (Gabriel), a few prop swords (fucking awesome), and a whole ass rocking horse.

The real winners were the vinyl's though. They were in perfect condition. Second was probably the box of tapes, a righteous mix of rock, jazz, and everything in between. Third grudgingly went to the books for sheer monetary value alone. God knew what someone would pay for one of the two signed, complete first edition sets that could be confirmed by the estate as being from Chuck’s personal library. Cas would agree.

Dean turned back to the tape deck with a thoughtful look. Actually, he could think of something to take the place of the third.

* * *

Dean called Bobby every Sunday including that Sunday they all thought would make them homeless. He and Sam had spent hours in their shared room talking to Bobby about anything and everything (the scrap yard was “Fine. Not too busy.” Everyone they knew in Sioux were “Staying away like they should.” Bobby himself was “doing fantastic.”) to take their minds off the flames on the horizon. 

Bobby, ever patient, had listened to them ramble on with stories about living with Castiel (“He was on the hood of my car, naked, covered in bees”) and their new neighborhood (“Everyone drives a tesla!”) and the house (“Hot tub, Bobby. We’re going to figure out how to get you one once this is all over.”). He told them what he was up to and how he was trouncing all these kids on Among Us and Sam regretted ever introducing their old man to the game.

This Sunday, Sam was on a zoom call with his group and while he said he would be “done with his call in thirty minutes” forty minutes ago, Dean felt it was no burden to keep enjoying the after effects of lunch with Bobby in companionable silence.

“Who is that?”

Dean turned around and spotted a Cas frozen to the floor, staring at them. He must have been trying to pass the living room to get to the kitchen from his office. 

“That’s Cas.” Dean gestured for Cas to come over and the man padded over quietly before taking a seat next to Dean on the settee. He looked like a strong wind would blow him over. 

“Bobby, Cas. Cas, Bobby.”

Cas smiled stiffly and waved. “Hello, Mr. Singer.”

“Don’t call me that, Cas. It makes me feel I’ve got one foot in the grave. Uncle Bobby will do.”

“Nice to meet you, Uncle Bobby.”

Cas did not soften at all. Dean waved him over and Cas gingerly took a seat next to him as Dean turned the laptop to get Cas into the frame.

“Nice to meet you too. That ‘Cas’ short for something?”

Cas relaxed a little bit when Dean stroked his arm and Dean couldn’t help but envision a cowboy calming down a startled horse. Cas was the startled horse. Cas was a startled horse.

“Castiel. Castiel Novak.”

Why was Cas a startled horse?

“Well, ain’t that something? Angel of Thursday right?”

Dean turned to Cas. “What?”

Cas shot him a sideways look then turned his attention back to Bobby with a slight smile. “Yes. My mother was very religious.”

Dean left the living room then, something about getting a glass of water. Bobby had that look on his face where he wanted to know everything about something and he wouldn’t stop until he found what he was looking for. Dean saw that same look on Sammy’s face all the time. It was, Dean thought, a testament to who Bobby was and how much he meant to them that no one could tell he wasn’t their father. 

He took his time getting the water into the kettle and turning it on. He reached into the mug cabinet, his hand moving past several university mugs (Castiel’s) and at least two of the more interesting purchases Sam had made (the chalkboard one) or was gifted (the toilet-shaped one) until Dean found his Star Wars one. So what? It changed colors and revealed the opening scroll when he added hot water to it. It made him happy.

The hot water finished heating just as he pulled Castiel’s tea (orchid and oolong the package said) box out of the cabinet. He plopped the silk tea bag in and poured the hot water over it. If Bobby saw this, he would probably get a minor reprimand for not treating the tea leaves right. If Cas saw this, he would make a cutting remark about adding sugar and milk. 

Which Dean did immediately and with great gusto. 

He was about to put everything back when he heard a small creak as Cas sat in a chair at the bar.

“Bobby grill you?” Dean grabbed a mug from the shelf when Cas gave his best “tea please” face and Dean couldn’t help but laugh as Cas made an affronted noise when his hand lingered over the toilet mug. Dean grabbed a normal mug, dropped a tea bag in, and poured hot water over it. 

“He asked me a lot of questions, yes.”

Cas accepted his mug happily and Dean thought he saw the tension in Cas’ shoulders bleed away. It was probably because school had started last week and Cas had been anxious about doing yet another term only online, this time with freshmen who had just started university and had no idea what to expect. Dean knew Sam had a tough time adjusting to Stanford. He couldn’t imagine what these kids would be going through, trapped at home with only online classes and no chance to make friends with peers. That was what kept Sam sane while Dean was halfway across the country and now these kids would be deprived that same reprieve. 

“That means he likes you.”

Cas gave him a small smile. “I’m happy to hear that. I like him too.”

Dean made his way back to the couch, checking his phone along the way. There was a text from Sam saying five more minutes and Dean chuckled before settling on the couch.

“Took you long enough.”

Dean sipped his tea. Still too hot. Damn. “I wanted to make sure you have enough time to arrive at a judgement, your honor.”

“He’s a great kid,” Bobby said gruffly. “I can see why you like him.”

“I like him?” Sure he liked Cas, but not like that. Not like… 

Bobby rolled his eyes. He didn’t call Dean an idjit these days. Not often anyway, but that eye roll alway said it and Dean smiled at the familiarity of it all. 

“Don’t look at me like that. You like him. You smile when you talk about him. Not as much as he smiles when he talks about you though.”

“He smiles when he talks about me?”

“Has California made you stupid? I just said that.”

Dean let that information sink in for a moment before replying, “It’s nice to hear it, Bobby.”

“You boys…” 

Dean inhaled deeply and asked, “How’s the shop?”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press. “Busier than ever. Everyone put off their oil changes and now I can’t keep up with the calls. Could really use a second set of hands.”

“What about Jo?” Jo was a good pair of hands. Dean was proud of her. He’d taught her everything she knew.

“Jo is busy delivering food for her mama. Ellen’s got a nice little food delivery thing going now. Jo doesn’t have time to work at the ol’ yard.” Bobby smiled wanly. The slight downward tug around his eyes revealed how tired he was. “It’s a damn shame you left, son, but I’m happy you did.”

Dean sipped his tea. It was cool enough now. Cool enough to drink. “Wasn’t much keeping me there.” 

“You were never meant to stay in Lawrence, Dean. Sioux with me? Maybe, but I see it in your eyes. You’re where you need to be.”

“Uh... thanks.”

Dean shifted in his chair. Exactly where he needed to be? What?

“Don’t mention it.”

* * *

“What’s this?”

Dean looked up from where he was writing an email to Victor about laying down some fine plastic mesh to keep the gophers out of the yard next year. It would cost a pretty penny, but Cas had almost twisted an ankle the other day and Dean was not about to let that happen. Cas lived alone out here. It would take him an hour or more to get help. Absolutely not. Gophers had to go. Cas had more than enough money in the garden budget to cover it anyway.

Cas was holding a small plastic rectangle in his hands, and ah… “A mixtape.”

“I haven’t seen one of these in a long time.” Cas smiled softly at the tape. It was such a small thing, sweet and light and Dean felt himself smile in response.

“You haven’t? You’ve got all the equipment down here.”

Cas huffed and Dean felt his smile grow wider. Cas never quite laughed. At first, Dean thought he just didn’t have a great sense of humor, but Cas had laughed when they first met. It turned out, Dean learned, that Cas had a very restrained laugh. He huffed and hummed and his chest would involuntarily puff up with a cut-off chuckle. God, it had been its own kind of pleasure and pain to get Cas to laugh, just cut loose and laugh so hard he doubled over with tears in his eyes. It had been music to Dean’s ears.

“It must be Luc’s. He was always interested in music.”

“Luc, he’s a producer right?”

“Yes, Columbia.” Cas looked impressed. Dean shrugged. He was just that good.

“Big time stuff.” “Mike the lawyer, Luc the conductor, and Gabe the…” Jimmy the accountant, Dean’s brain supplied unhelpfully.

“Confectioner.”

“Candy maker.”

Cas chuckled and Dean relished the sound, the little laugh Cas pulled out for him, just for him. “That will suffice.”

Cas handed him the mixtape and Dean turned it over in his hands. Dean looked it over, then extended the tape to hand it back.

“You said I could have anything I wanted. I made it for you.” The man had the gall to raise an eyebrow. Goddamn, Cas could be dense sometimes. 

“Cas, it’s a present. You keep those.”

Cas took the tape back and turned it over again a few times, like turning it over would make it reveal its secrets and maybe it would, but playing it would do better, Dean thought. It would be nice if Cas listened to it a few times.   
“A present. What’s the occasion?” Cas smiled at him warmly and damn that was unfair. Dean could feel his brain short circuit a little. 

“Does there have to be one?” Real smooth.

Cas smiled again, mischievous and sweet and Dean felt a sort of gripping feeling in his chest like he had felt when he was cutting together the tape and it definitely wasn’t from the painstaking process of making a tape. No. It was definitely Cas. 

“I suppose not. Dean’s top 13 Led Zeppelin Traxx?”

Dean straightened up, copying the air Cas put on when he was teaching. “You said you didn’t know what Led Zeppelin was.”

“Is this my assigned listening, Professor Winchester?”

Oh damn, that… Dean was going to store that one away for later.

“Something like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, ever write something and then realize you hate it? At that point. Will finish this but damn. I'm not vibing.


	4. Champagne Bubbles

“Come on, Dean.” Dean felt the bed dip as Sam sat down next to him. “Talk to me.”

Dean was pretty sure that he had locked that door, but seeing the lockpicks in Sammy’s hands, he regretted ever teaching Sammy how to do that, even if it was a totally cool and awesome big brother thing to do at the time. 

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and damn it. The anger he was looking for, the fire he should have felt in his chest to brush this moment off, just wasn’t there. Damn it all, it shouldn’t be like this, not on Thanksgiving. He should be upstairs laughing with Bobby and knocking back a beer with one arm slung over the back of Cas’ chair and an easy smile on his face while his brother makes a big deal out of decapitating the turkey-shaped butter they found at Safeway.

Sam was probably giving him the “you can tell me anything and I won’t judge” eyes Sam learned from his one gender studies class in undergrad Dean had mocked him for relentlessly because why take gender studies if not to pick up hot girls? Except, Sam had said, that would be the most inappropriate place to pick up girls after he’d internalized what he’d learned in class and Dean had rolled his eyes when Sam wanted to talk about performative masculinity and...

No chick flick moments.

Dean was tempted to say it, but looking at Sammy, he couldn’t bring himself to.

“I don’t want to ruin things for you.”

Sam stared at him for a beat, before thinking. Dean could see the little Apple spinning wheel in his eyes as he found the right words. He hadn’t, however, anticipated what Sam was going to say.

“Dean, I’m graduating in the spring and Castiel and I already talked about this. Whatever happens with you guys, it won’t affect my housing agreement with him.”

Dean tried not to think about the fact that this had been going on for so long, had been so obvious, that Cas had felt the need to talk to Sam about it and reassured him that this shift in their relationship wouldn’t affect Sam in any way if it went awry. Cas had done that and Dean didn’t know if he should have felt betrayed or comforted that Cas had. That was just too much to unpack right now.

“Still feels like a big risk.”

Sam punched his shoulder softly. “Come on. Be honest.”

Dean… Dean wasn’t sure what in Sammy’s eyes made him pause. There was just a look there, a look of knowing, of acceptance, of willingness to learn and be there and Dean wondered when the tables flipped and he wasn’t helping his father and Bobby raise Sammy because while he had gotten his mother’s looks, it looked like Sammy had gotten her ability to make him feel safe. God, wasn’t this the weirdest time to learn that? The weirdest. Unpacking that later. 

“I don’t know, Sam. I saw him laughing with Bobby at dinner and I just.. It was all…”

“Too real?” Sam supplied.

Dean nodded. Too real… that was one way of describing it. It was more like getting hit with a semi going at a hundred miles per hour and straight between the eyes. All of a sudden Cas was there, at their Thanksgiving table, eating Dean’s cooking and smiling like he had never smiled before. He was glowing and Dean was so smitten. So damn smitten he was pretty sure everyone on the zoom call would have been able to see it if the camera had been pointed at him and not the turkey he made and he’s amazing that he lasted through dinner and up until dessert because the impact of it had rattled his brain in his skull like a maraca until he figured he had a concussion. 

Dean sighed. 

“Yeah. What if he’s only picking me because I’m here? Not like he can meet anyone else during quarantine.”

Sam hesitated and Dean looked up at the ceiling. God, he wanted to die. This is why he didn’t do chick flick moments.

“Dean, he went on dates, you know?”

Dean’s head snapped down with a click so loud Sam winced. Fuck, that was going to hurt later.

“He what?”

Cas did what?

Sam nodded slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he had stepped on a landmine or a unicorn and the odds were 50/50, possibly 75/25. “Yeah. After you arrived, he went on a few Zoom dates or whatever during quarantine, but didn’t hit it off with anyone.” 

Fuck. 

Sam went on, “He didn’t pick you just because you were there. Hell, I’m here. We could be Sastiel! Forget Destiel, or Deancas, or whatever. Sastiel! That’s an awesome couple name.”

“You’re straight,” Dean said, suppressing the laugh that threatened to spill over at the thought of that nickname. What was with Sam and the nicknames?

“I’m straight lovable is what I am,” Sam retorted, a smile on his face. “He chose you because he sees what I see in you. Give him a chance.”

“I hope he’ll give me a chance.”

They went back upstairs and found Cas telling everyone on the zoom about the time Dean helped Cas with his bees, but his suit wasn’t sealed up properly so he had taken off running and jumped into the pool to avoid the swarm as his embarrassing Dean story. That was absolutely unfair, because Cas had shown up on the impala buck naked and covered in bees and the fact that Dean had tripped and fallen on his face when he saw that was a way more embarrassing story in Sam’s opinion and Dean argued that the best story was when Sam went out to commune with the deer and one of them ate his hair so Sam’s hair was lopsided for a few weeks until Cas pulled out a pair of scissors and fixed it. 

After Dean had tried to disastrous results, Cas said with mirth in his eyes. 

Over the laughter of the people on the call, Cas sent him a concerned look and Dean made a little gesture with his head that he hoped Cas would interpret as “later”, but he knew could also be interpreted as “never” and “I hope the winter harvest is plentiful this year as we’ve had an unseasonably warm winter.” You know… depending on the context. 

Cas gave him a little head tilt and Dean sighed deeply. Deeply.

He could even tell the little head tilts apart. This was Cas’ little “tilting my head so the little thought marbles can make their way through the complicated maze that is my brain” head tilt, the one that made Dean want to smooch the ever living daylights out of him and how was that for a chick flick moment?

He was so screwed. He just had to hope he wasn’t actually screwed. 

After dinner, dessert, and multiple rounds of drinks, Dean was packing away the rest of the mashed potatoes. Cas was… Cas was having a slice of post-drinks pumpkin pie, and while Dean appreciated how Cas appreciated the pie, this slice was more whipped cream than pie and it wasn’t helping to see Cas lick the whipped cream off his upper lip.

“Dean?” 

Dean turned around and fuck, Cas was licking his lips again and Dean...

“I think I really like you.”

Cas blinked, startled. 

“I think I really like you too.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair before letting it rest on the back of his neck.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Cas stared for a moment, then he laughed. He laughed, bright like a bell and Dean felt his heart jump in his chest. God, that was the best sound on earth.

“If this year has taught me anything, I don’t think anyone does.”

* * *

_ Twelve months later (Post-Pandemic). _

Eileen smiled at them over her beer. Where Sam had found such a plucky chick, Dean had no idea (forced zoom-hangouts for morale), but he figured if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Sam. 

“Dean, Cas tells me that he’s not fallen for you yet,” she said in a teasing tone.

Especially moments like this. 

Cas’ brows were furrowed as he shot Eileen a softened glare that screamed “TRAITOR” and Dean laughed. 

He threw an arm around Cas’ shoulders and handed his boyfriend a beer. “You haven’t fallen for me yet? We’ve gone and done this all out of order then.”

Cas rolled his eyes, accepting the beer. He pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek and whispered with absolute sincerity, “Dean, I’m still falling.”

Dean kissed his cheek. Cas’ stubble was one of his favorite things about him. Stubble burn was a pain in the ass, but God, did it make Cas look so damn good. 

“I’ll catch you,” Dean whispered back with absolute certainty.

Dean felt Cas’ smile brush against his cheek and Dean remembered they had an audience. Their audience had drifted off slightly and he appreciated Eileen’s discretion.

“You will?”

“How many men can say that an angel fell from heaven for them?”

Cas pulled back, a cut off laugh caught in his chest and Dean grinned from ear to ear.

“I’m not an actual angel, you know that right?”

Dean kissed his nose, his cute little nose. 

“You’re my angel, Cas.”

Cas laughed, bright and sparkling like champagne bubbles.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks. I'm going to try writing again and hopefully it turns out better. You can find me on tumblr (same user) where I do tilt my little noggin so the thought/fic marbles make it through the maze.


End file.
